Just One Night
by QueenBtchoftheUniverse
Summary: All Damian wanted was his parents' attention.


He raised a hand and knocked on the office door, then lowered it in order to wait for a reply.

Damian didn't care that he was seventeen, and far too old to seek his father's approval. He needed it _now_. Right now. He was tired of being ignored, always pushed to the side for a meeting or something grownup and much more important. He was his _son_. He should be the most important thing in his father's entire _life_.

And…and he needed his father's comfort. His touch, his assurance. No one could make the world right again like dad could. Damian could still feel those teeth, dull and pinching at his ear. _Batsy's always cared about one thing, sweetheart. And that's never been you…_

Damian slapped the side of his head, physically forcing that grating voice out and replacing it with a ringing noise. He pushed open the door to his father's office, strode up to his desk and took the phone from his ear. He disconnected the call and slammed the receiver back into its holder.

His father just looked at him with his trademark stare. Damian never knew if he was seething inside or lost off in some unrelated tangent. He'd never want to play against him in a game of poker, if his father ever had time for such a pointless game.

"I was in the middle of a conference call." Still, that blank stare didn't waver. Damian wondered what he'd have to do to break it. If he slapped him across the face, would his father allow him to see his pain?

"I know that."

This time there was a tic in the corner of his father's eye. "What do you want?"

God, so many things. They all bubbled to the front of his mind at that instant, and he tried to push through them, to separate the important things that he wanted to say. Instead, the stupidest one came out first.

"I'm taking you and mother out to dinner."

…

No one talked while getting in the limousine.

No one breathed during the car ride.

It physically jolted Damian to hear the voice of the maître d'hôtel greeting them and asking where they'd prefer to sit.

His father made the choice of sitting outside on the veranda

"A nice private choice, monsieur."

He put his arm around his mother, the both of them shining with their public personas.

Damian thought that the sky looked too empty to be beautiful.

"So, what is it that you want to tell us?" His mother's jewelry threw sparks from the lamplight when she raised her fizzing glass to drink.

"Now Talia," His father reached over to put a hand over hers. "Don't pressure the boy, he'll tell us when he's ready to."

Was he ready? He had opened his mouth, about to speak, then was cut off. Would he ever get his chance?

"No, I am ready." The force of his words was enough to keep their eyes stuck on him. He probably couldn't divert their attention now even if he tried.

He cleared his throat, wanting his words to be immaculate. "Your time is precious, I know. But now that you've come back, mother, I want us all to spend time together. Like a real family."

"We could have done so at home, Damian. Was there really a need to drag us out this far?"

His father spoke as though Damian were drowning them. Taking them out this far? This far where?

"No, I…I guess not…" He pressed his lips together. Damn, he wasn't supposed to show any hesitation!

"No! I mean, no…there is a reason. And I know it, too."

Now his mother had her brow pinched with concern, while his father mirrored her look. Maybe this was why he had decided to drag them out in public. At home, everyone was guarded. They locked up their feelings behind iron doors, just like secrets. No one strode around the house, they snuck. What else could anyone suspect from a family with double identities?

Here, at least he could get the satisfaction of them pretending.

_You're like a prince, locked up in that castle all day. I want to free you. Say you'll be mine._

Damian bit down hard on his lower lip. He knew that it would only take one word. A name, and his parents would get rid of the voice in his head for good. They couldn't erase his memories, of course not. But they could eliminate the one that had put them there in the first place.

"And for you sir? What can I get you?" Their waiter was staring at him, waiting for his final decision.

But did he really want him gone? The seductive voice that promised things he had never dared to hope for before. Maybe that was why it scared him. He was afraid that these promises too would be shallow.

"No, actually. I'm fine just the way that I am, thank you."


End file.
